Sorrow
by Wanders the World
Summary: Caith is a little... different. He nullifies all magical effects and has found himself in the middle of Skyrim with in-human abilities and a difficult road ahead of him. His past is shaded and his future unknown. One thing is certain- the world might not last long enough for him to straighten it all out.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Bethesda owns the Elder Scrolls games and all their content.**

He ran as fast as he could from the ruins of Helgen. Alduin the World-Eater just dropped in on the execution and he wanted nothing to do with it. Right now he was dressed in his usual apparel consisting of steel greaves and bracers combined with leather armor, gloves, and boots made to fit his small lithe form along with his two two feet long dragon bone swords at his side strapped to his belt, an dragonbow and a quiver of ebony arrows, a pouch bigger on the inside than without, and various daggers hidden on his person. He had a dark cloak that concealed his armor and the hood laid low over his face. The fabric effectively hiding his features of white hair and fierce amber eyes. He was the same height as most nords although his thief like frame and build in addition to sharper features alluded to a very mixed heritage. Taking a breath to calm himself he slowed and continued walking, heading north with hopes of being left in peace. Three figures with the distinct robes of the Thalmor appeared in the distance on the road heading straight for him. Inwardly he swore and cursed his decision to remain on the path, otherwise he would have been able to ignore him. Now they already had him in their sights and seemed intent on stopping to question him. Probably influenced by the rising collum of smoke and ash in the distance.

"You there, you have been graced with the presence of the Thalmor. Behold the glory of the Aldmeri Dominion!" Their leader announced disdainfully as if expecting him to drop to his knees and sing praises -it took all of his self control not to laugh. He drew his swords and one of them immediately cast a spell at him. It dissapated around him partially absorbed and their smirks faded, grimly he rushed them with inhuman speed, agility, and strength to dispatch them. Thrusting the tip of the sword into the first's chest, slipping the blade between his ribs, he spun away in a smooth pivot and parried the second's blow. It was easy to block and evade his move before slicing off his head before following through to pierce the last's throat. Relying on his heightened senses to warn him of others nearby he took his time searching the corspes for any valuables which he quickly relieved them of.

Straightening he continued on the path and after walking a few more hours came to a barrow near a small village, it was called Bleak Falls by the bandits who inhabited it -or rather used to. Now their blood soaked the soil, a head rolled by. He grinned shaking his head at the simple minded opponents. At first they tried to surround him only to take steps back, some of them out right fleeing, when they saw that his eerily dragon like eyes narrowed and his pupils turned to slits as some of his more feral features such as slight fangs, became more prominent -although he never did quite look mortal to begin with. When he growled at them, as only a dragon could match, and a few screeched in fear as they ran only to trip as their entrails were ripped out and their life blood spilled onto the dirt. The scent of death was still fresh as he strolled by and ended up sleeping on the outskirts of Riverwood, the village, taking advantage of the free bedrolls set up and the guards patrolling to keep watch instead of setting up came on his own elsewhere. In the morning he rose to leave only to be stopped by the words of the hunter who also shared the fire.

"They say a dragon was spotted flying near here," he spoke softly with a voice unused to speaking often. "There's a possibility it could attack. This is a good place to trade or stay the night when passing by. I am headed farther west. If you travel nearby, would you request the Jarl of Whiterun send soldiers to protect the area?"

He considered it a moment before nodding. There was a spark of gratitude in the man's eyes when he spoke next. "What's your name stranger? Mine's Darth."

"Caith," he finally responded after some hesitation. He was reluctant to give out that information but a hunter had no reason to use it against him. They shook hands and parted ways; Caith set his feet in the direction of the Hold's capital and the other deeper into Skyrim's wilderness.

It took from nearly dawn to dusk for him to arrive at the city's gates. Although on the plains a trio was attacking a giant that had strayed into the farmland. He took his bow off his back and line a shot up, his aim was true and the arrow sunk into its eye. Another swiftly followed effectively blinding it as the creature clawed at the projectiles soon to be felled by the warriors. Caith was within reach of the guards and about to greet them when he heard footsteps rushing towards him. Out of reflex he drew his dagger, the elven material glinting faintly and sunk into a crouch. Only once he recongnized the heavy breaths to belong to the three fool hardy warriors who had sprinted over to him did he relax. Though the ever battle ready tenseness never did really leave his stance.

"That was a good shot," a fiery red headed nord complimented him. "My name is Aela, they are Farkas and Ria." She introduced him to another nord about his height with longer, shoulder length brown hair and the beginnings of a beard along with an energetic short haired brunette imperial woman.

"We are Companions, you should come to Jorrvaskr and join," Farkas told him in a deep rumbling voice. The woman seemed to agree as she started chattering some nonsense while they approached the gate. The guards let the group pass but called out for him to hault.

"The city is closed due to the dragon attack on Helgen."

"I see you know of that, good. A dragon was spotted near Riverwood and protection is asked of the Jarl," Caith turned to walk away.

"Riverwood is in danger too! You had better tell Jarl Balgruuf, he's up in Dragonsreach. Don't cause any trouble." _Was it really not obvious from the fact dragons are flying all over that everywhere is in danger?_

Still grumbling internally, though his face remained impassive as he made his way through the city at a jog wanting to catch the Jarl awake before it got too dark to find a place to make camp outside the city. In Dragonsreach Caith was greeted by Irileth, the grumpy housecarl, and delivered the same line to her, than the bronjun, the same lines he gave to the guards posted at the gates. The man was agreeable and sent the order for additional forces to be sent over to the area. Caith was then given some coin for his trouble and directed to the court wizard Farengar who had a task to ask of him.

"I need some one to go investigate a crypt in search of a tablet that may or may not exist, Balgruuf assures me you are capable," the wizard went on to explain the signficance of it all although Caith interrupted when he realized what he was seeking.

"Why would a joor seek the Dovahgloz?" he half demanded half mused. Partly because he was not aware they still had knowledge of its existance.

"Where did you learn to speak the dragon language?" Farengar exclaimed. Although he had already walked away with a nod at Balgruuf to show he consented to the task. Caith made his way out of the city and back towards Riverwood, it was not like he needed regular sleep or meals anyway. Not wanting to deal with the town's residents he ambushed the bandits outside of the barrow with his bow and when the last charged him he simply slung the weapon back over his shoulder not bothering to draw his blades while deflecting the oncoming blow. Swiftly, Caith kicked the bandit's midsection and snapped his kneck as he went limp from multiple broken ribs judging by his pained scream and the subtle snaps he heard.

Proceeding underground, he slaughtered the bandits he found, a giant frostbite spider, gained the claw key from a bandit he stabbed -conviently held still by the web he was trapped in, decapitated a draugr, and reached the final chamber with little trouble. Then, of course, a deathlord stepped out of a coffin and it all went to hell.

Caith sprinted away and rolled under a Shout before coming up to a ready stance holding his blades close defensively. He let the creature approach at an unervingly slow, final, pace then vaulted into action. Easily, he deflected one of its attacks, mirth returning as he realized he was stronger, and slashed at its arm and jumped up and over it using the other limb it extended to grasp at him. Caith's smirk grew as the Shout to disarm him flowed over him harmlessly.

Taking a risk Caith threw his remaining weapon towards the beast while sprinting for his fallen blade. Feeling the hilt he grabbed it off the ground just as the deathlord blocked the airborn sword and decapitated it. Calming his slightly excelerated breathing, Caith sheathed the pair and grimly carved the dovahgloz from its chest doing his best to ignore the blood and gore coating him with a wretched scent rolling off of them. Caith walked back over to thee world wall and a fleeting smile lit his face as he read the familiar script. His expression gave way to saddness at the word wall void of the hum of power it was once installed with. As soon as he did a final sweep to make sure the room was clear and pick up the rest of the loot in the room he vacated the chamber through the hidden exit.

Shielding his eyes from the bright daylight that greeted him he went back to dragonsreach. Upon his return the wizard greeted him and commended his efforts -apparently convinced he had died. Suddenly Irileth, the housecarl, came in announcing of a dragon attack requiring both their presences. However, the woman Farengar was with did not escape his notice trying to blend into the shadows in a tattered cloak. Either way, Caith ended up at the Western Watchtower within the hour waiting for a dragon. _thud Thud THUD_

The wing beats grew louder as it approached like drums in the sky. "Stay back, do not interfere!" He ordered as the dragon dipped down closer.

"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin," Its words rumbled towards him.

"Drem Yol Lok, Mirmulnir. Zu'u los Dovahkiin! Do you challenge?" his voice lowered to a near whisper yet they were still projected in the same rumbling tone. Mirmulnir roared and shouted fire at him and he dove out of the way drawing his weapons. Leading him towards the destroyed tower and away from the frightened soldiers he darted amongst the stonework avoiding the deadly teeth, talons, and tail. When he was close enough, Caith launched himself from his current perch and onto the dragon's head. Not having bothered ground it by shooting its wings as Mirmulnir was content to take his time in their duel. That proved his downfall as he drove both blades deeply into his skull and he fell dead. Jumping off Caith did not pause as the soul filled him and continued on his way. Only the housecarl saying the Jarl would want to speak with him kept him from turning away from Whiterun and into the wilderness.

_"DOVAHKIIN!"_ the Greybeards summoned him from High Hrothgar on the Throat of the World.

Meeting with Balgruuf ended with a title of Thane, a housecarl named Lydia, and an enchanted axe. Caitth walked up to her and handed her the weapon to which she replied exasperated 'I am sworn to carry your burdens.' _Oh, you're so dead. _A tight, false smile later and he slipped outside past the guards. Caith walked down the steps and began to make his way out of the city when Farkas spotted him from the crowd in the square descending the steps of the Keep.

"Hey, did you think about our offer?" he asked in a friendly manner. Caith took one look at the determined look in his eye and found the situation to be quite comical if he wasn't the one in it. This man was not giving up if he had to drag him -unlikely he could but it would be amusing to see him try- through the doors of Jorrvaskr.

"Lead the way," he said resignedly. Inside he was led through a mead hall, past a pathetic excuse of a brawl, into the living quarters, and stopping at the room at the end. Inside the room at the end of the stone hallway Farkas's twin brother Vilkas was there with Kodlak -he had gotten a history lesson as they walked.

"Yes, you do have a certain strength of spirit. Perhaps you would do well here," the old man mused thoughtfully.

"Master, are you truly considering accepting him?" Vilkas protested.

"Nor have I heard of you wolf," agtagonizing a group of werewolves probably wasn't the best idea, but how were they to know Caith could scent their Blood? Nevertheless the man's eyes widened though it seemed the Harbinger was non the wiser to his remark.

"We have empty beds and there is room here for those with good hearts that is all that matters."

"And their arm," Vilkas interjected with a sulking glare.

"Ah, yes. How are you in battle?" from Kodlak's tone Caith could have been asked the weather and it would not have mattered more to the man. It seemed he had another supporter for him to join.

"I can handle myself," he stated and watched the wolf's smirk fade as he was intructed to test him outside on the training grounds. Caith followed Vilkas to the yard and watched impassively as he was about to switch to a single handed weapon and shield before drawing the Skyforge steel greatsword strapped to his back instead. He drew his blades and dropped into a ready stance as they began to circle in a deadly dance. Members of the Circle and other Companions came out to watch as they did this, a hush falling over the crowd.

Striking first, Caith sprung forwards deflecting Vilkas's rushed attempt to block his blow and casually brought his other sword to his neck only with a slight pressure so that the other knew it was there then twirled it away. The confusion of his duel partner lasted for a brief moment before he swung his sword back to counter in answer. They would continue to spar. However, this time it was different. Neither of them took advantage of all the openings they saw and chose to prolong the fight far past the point of winning and more into a play of skill.

Finally, almost a hour later they called for a halt and declared the match a draw -both with their far share of bruises. Skjor came and offered a minor potion to them each, he declined knowing it would have no effect and Vilkas merely shrugged, raised an eyebrow, and drank his.

"You fought well, you might just make it. Talk to Farkas for where the sleeping quarters are and Circle members for work," Vilkas explained with no trace of malice in his tone, though there might have been a little respect. Indoors he met up with Farkas who showed him which beds to fall into and got a job to clear out Falmer from Shimmermist Cave. He decided to set out for the job right away, despite it being late into the night -or early morning- so he could be finished as soon as possible. Once he was beyond the city gates Caith found an area to set up camp a ways off the trail in favor of one of the hunters' rests set up in the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

It took him a full day to reach Shimmermist Cave having decided not to stop until he got there. The wolves howling not too distantly off the path encouraged him to keep going. Caith was relieved when he finally was able to turn off the path to find the cave. He was superstitious about roads; they never led him anywhere good anyway. As familiar with small cave layouts as he was Caith pulled out his weapons and entered with all his supplies preferring to wait until the area was cleared to sleep. Inside it was dim, semi-illuminated by glowing rocks or mushrooms. The air was damp from the waterfall under the bridge.

He cautiously crossed the rock bridge deigning not to go down the tempting ramp when he heard a skeever prowling around, its claws clicking, scraping, and scratching over the ground. Over the bridge he froze and dropped low when a sole Falmer came into view on patrol as sentry. It was fascinating that they possessed the intelligence to post a look-out. The beast went down quickly when Caith darted from the tunnel into the large chamber hurling his axe at it. Its body slumped to hang over the edge of the higher level and for a moment he was worried it would fall. Caith went through a chest in the alcove that once belong to long dead bandits and quickly retrieved his axe.

Moving on he eliminated another falmer when he heard the clink of metal. Dwarven metal, a Centurion. _Damn me to Oblivion!_ Caith cursed and made a mad dash about the cave seeking cover, finding none he turned to face it and adjusted his grip on the hilts of his weapons before forcing himself to settle into a defensive stance. It took a swing at him which he ducked and whacked it with his sword leaving a dent when he heard a creaking grind and Caith had just enough time to groan and roll away wishing for a shield when a blast of boiling steam seared his exposed skin. He ignored the pain and concentrated on the knee joints and going in for sparse blows. The Centurion clubbed him in the side with its mace and he went flying immensely grateful for his reflexes that allowed him to land with only a few cracked ribs and some bruising from the impact. Caith scrambled to the perch previously taken by a falmer and shoved the corpse down onto it. Now he used his bow aiming for the complex inner systems rapidly firing steel arrows well aware he shouldn't waste his supply of ebony when not facing targets with flesh.

A very tense and stressful eternity later it shuddered and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Caith did not bother to loot and simply as eager to put distance from it as he was. There was a small tunnel leading deeper in that he chose to follow leading to some type of grotto where a couple falmer lurked off to his left. He nearly fainted with relief at the continuance of easy prey. His spirits were further lifted by the discovery of a tent with chaurus eggs which he carefully added to his pack. Alchemy required supplies. There was also a chest with some loot inside once he picked the lock. Caith followed a path with a growing amnesty to find it opened into a chaurus hatchery where he barely survived long enough to get close for the kill. Exhausted he dragged himself into a defensible corner, healed, and took a nap for roughly an hour or so. He woke still alive and aching much to his displeasure, and continued on into following chamber.

This one held a pair of Chaurus which he killed with a snarl of frustration and moved on, his agitation growing. The rooms held no value or interest, sure the occasional challenge, but now he was bored. Caith at length faced a Falmer in the tunnel and a set of Dwemer doors at the end. Here he paused and rearranged his weapons, checked his armor, and put potions in easy to reach locations. It was a good move, a high level Falmer and Dwarven Centurion came at him when he stepped in. Immediately he lured the falmer into the tunnel to separate and kill it first immensely grateful he did not have a large two handed weapon to deal with and instead was able to use the close quarters to his dual wielding skill advantage. Caith narrowed his eyes as the Centurion tried to blow steam into the tunnel in between trying to smash through. He chuckled at its lack of wit and dove between its legs and kept going until he was at the far wall. This time around Caith defeated his opponent faster after his previous experience and it went down with a bang. Looking around, he found no danger and started collecting anything of value including quite a few Dwemer Artifacts from an altar that he was sure would fetch a fair price. His task complete, he exited the grotto through a hidden exit that lead into the main cave from behind the waterfall. Caith stopped on his way out to get that skeever he heard and took its skin and meat for later.

When he stepped under the sky it felt so peaceful to him in the pure darkness of night, the moons shining dimly to light his way. His mission had take half the night and Caith used the rest of it along with part of the morning to travel back to Jorrvaskr.

Upon entering the Hall the Companions looked up in surprise at his disheveled appearance. Burnt, bloody, and injured he was sure the Circle could scent his weakness. Farkas was the first to approach him.

"What happened?"

"Falmer and a couple of Centrions, job's finished though," he noticed how they gathered around him, edging closer as if expecting a tale. From the looks on their faces surviving those conditions without a shield-sibling did not happen very often. Caith felt some sympathy for the guilt shown on Farkas's face.

"Gods, I swear I did not know that would be so dangerous. Otherwise I would have assigned it to a team! Anyway, speak to Skjor for your trial and Vilkas should be up in a moment with your reward."

"New blood," he looked over to see Vilkas approaching and toss him a sack of coin. "There's your payment. I suggest using it to buy yourself a healing potion or learn how to cast a spell." He quirked his lips amused and dropped the septims into the pouch on his belt. Caith tipped his head back, allowing his hood to fall -much to the continued surprise of the others who had previously only gotten glimpses of his face. He then went out back and bartered with Eorland to let him use the Skyforge to repair his armor and later returned inside in a simple tunic, having placed the set into his pouch, and dressed his wounds as well as he could. Passing the whelp quarters towards the baths he heard Ria annoying Athis about the recent dragon attacks and he sighed at the reminder of his other responsibilities. That did not stop him from taking a long bath though, thus cleaned he went to speak with Kodlak.

Caith knocked softly on the wooden doors and heard the man beckon him inside a moment later. "Ah, I was wondering when we would have a chance to speak again," he rasped and broke into a weak cough.

"Harbinger, I am leaving. I will return as soon as I can, however this will take weeks, even months. I may be able to check in occasionally or accept missions sent to me by courier."

"And where will you be?"

"I am not sure, send contracts to Dragonsreach and I will find them from there."

"You realize this is not the concern of the Companions and you will not be allowed to take a shield-sibling for aid," the old man told him sternly. Caith nearly laughed outright at the frail fool.

"My line of work is non of yours either. I am not asking for aid, I am telling you I will be gone," Caith snapped back harshly, enjoying the sight of Kodlak cringing back at the ferocity of his response. He nearly made a remark back only to fall silent as he looked around to see Caith had already slipped away. Dovahkiin hoped he still had a position when he returned as he sought out Skjor in the yard to find out what he wanted.

"There you are. It's time for your trial. You will go to Dustman's Cairn with Farkas to retrieve a shard of Wuuthrad and prove your honor."

"Sounds good, am I required to return with Farkas?"

"Yes, you are responsible for each other's safety," the exasperated tone was tempered by caution.

"In that case, I will head out now and get it done with him," Caith said farewell and told Farkas of his plans to leave. The man was ready within minutes and they were about to descend the steps when Vilkas showed up and beckoned his brother over to say goodbye. His gaze moved over to Caith and the two of them stepped aside to speak.

"Don't let my brother get hurt and luck be with you."

"Gratitude, I'll do what I can to bring him back."

"Promise?"

"That he'll return? No, but curse me if I don't try," the expression on Vilkas's face said his words did not assuage his worries for his twin. Caith offered a hand and he shook as allies. At least they trusted each other. They parted and he decided travel for the rest of the day and throughout most of the night. After that it was another two days hike until they made it to the location. During the time they fought off wolves, bears, saber cats, and even a group of bandits. Upon reaching Dustman's they decided to spend half a day resting before entering the Cairn. Unfortunately, it was then that Farkas noticed he was still injured when he changed the bandages to his injuries before retreating to huddle under his weather-enchanted cloak -the fact that it was enchanted and not directly him allowed the extra protection and warmth it offered to function properly.

"Hey, your still hurt. You should take a potion," Farkas advised with concern. Caith tried not to wince when he sat down a bit to roughly and jostled his ribs. "You know, I don't remember you telling any of us your name."

"I didn't," the look he received prompted him to say more and too low for him to hear he whispered _'Dovahkiin'_. "Caith" Farkas stayed silent and gave him a silent nod in approval. They spent the rest of their time relaxing and enjoying the company of another they trusted. After lunch they packed their meal and descended into the ancient entryway leaving the noon day sun behind.

"Honestly, this is not the first time I have wanted to enter a burial crypt," Caith spoke softly as they descended the narrow spiraling steps to the entrance.

"You're just odd. I, for one, tend to stay away from such places if I can avoid them."

"Then you need to get out more my friend," Caith chided lightly in what he meant to be an encouraging manner.

In the dim lighting it was obvious someone had been disturbing the ruin and recently too. "Looks like someone has been digging," Farkas commented echoing his thoughts.

"Aye, things could get interesting."

With a grim nod Farkas stepped aside to let him take the lead down the path to a winding hallway lined with graves. A growl sounded followed by a low shuffling echo as a draugr lurched toward her. The creature raised it rusty battle as to attack at a speed so slow he had to put some effort into holding back a laugh lest it alert the rest of the horde. Caith dashed at it and delivered a heavy whack with the flat of his blade causing the draugr to stumble, not by coincidence, onto the waiting tip of her sword. Unfortunately, the corpse fell to the ground with a clatter. The tell-tale shifting of stones rang out ahead of them; they were gathering.

Arriving at a door he shoved it open ignoring the protests of its rotting hinges. They had entered a throne room and discovered no other possible way out besides a lever in an alcove where it was obvious a gate would be activated when it was touched.

"Well, do you want to pull it or should I?" Caith asked when he did not.

"Your trial," He made sure Farkas was safely away from the area before throwing the switch. Sure enough, a gate immediately slammed down. He rushed over to him and looked off to her left where they watched as anther gate lifted in reaction.

"Perfect, I will go see if I can find out how to raise this-" he was cut off as a group warriors ran in. Her eyes narrowed; the Silver Hand had come. It was blatant now that the whole thing was a set-up.

"Time to die, Dog!" the leader snarled at Farkas. It was plain to see that he was out numbered and he could smell the fear and indecision coming off his scent. While they were arguing Caith was about to start firing off arrows when he saw Farkas smoothly shift into his beast form. He was a large wolf with a dense, dark, brown coat. He roared and swiped viciously at the group as they screamed frantically trying to get away. When they were all dead he loped off and there was a distant click followed by the gate in front of her being raised. Still as a wolf he cautiously approached him, Caith ruffled his fur and met his gaze evenly waiting until he looked away and shifted back to signal the end of the challenge.

"Go get some clothes and then we can talk," Caith directed like a parent would a child. Farkas dressed in his armor and turned to talk to him who had drifted about shifting through the contents of the room.

"Glad it seems I did not frighten you. We, the Circle, all possess the ability," he offered his explanation hesitantly, not knowing what to say.

"Hercine's chosen have long hunted upon Nirn. I knew you were wolves the moment I met you. Tell me, why did you wait to transform?"

"Kodlak has asked Vilkas and I to refrain with him while he searches for a cure. He views the Blood as a curse but Aela and Skjor think it a gift."

"And you and your brother?" Caith did not miss how he avoided grouping them in either faction.

"We were practically raised by the old man after Jergen left for the Great War a few months after rescuing us from Necromancers. How could we not go along with him? I don't remember much from when we were little and Vilkas says he doesn't neither but sometimes I see him freeze up with this look on his face," Farkas let the sentence trail off and sighed heavily realizing exactly who he was talking to -a stranger.

"I see. You should decide for yourselves. Sovngarde is not an option regardless of whether you Hunt or not," Caith told him after a moments consideration. "We need to keep moving, been down here too long already. Bad idea to stay the night with the Silver Hand lurking around."

The man readied his weapon and followed him down the passageway to continue on through the caves. Periodically members of the hand attacked in small groups making it almost ridiculously easy to defeat them. Farkas shied off a bit when they got flashy with the silver weapons, but he had had a good scare. Two wooden doors, some stairs, a couple of treasure chests, a botched attempt by Farkas to pick the locks of said chests resulting in a handful of his lock picks broken before he took pity and opened them, running draugr and Silver Hands through, and a little exploring later they stood at the entrance to Dustman's Crypt. They had reached the door in decent time and chose to sit against the wall for a while to catch their breath and rest.

They decided to move on a quarter hour later. It was still necessary to be wary for the screaming Hands who dependable as ever ran at them with curses flying faster than their blades only to be cut down by the fearsome pair who now fought with ease. Caith stepped over the last of the bodies and yanked out his dagger with a squelch from the eye of whom he threw it at wiping it on the leather armor. He walked across a questionably constructed bridge and followed a handy little path towards, wherever it went, stabbing draugr systematically as they rose. It was an effective method and the occasional Hand was a welcomed break from the monotony.

They stepped into a large room containing a chest with the key to Dustman's Cairn inside off to the left that opened the imposing iron door across the floor. The several Skeever they encountered told them that the area was relatively undisturbed. Unfortunately for his friend there were a pair of Frostbite Spiders in the next room which he practically jumped into his arms at the sight of and gladly let him take them out focusing on the emerging Draugr. Knowing better not to comment about another's fears he did not push the matter and made sure he would remember it for later combat. A few potions were lying on an alchemy lab in the corner which Caith swiped into his pack and some ingredients that would be useful in creating potions for any he took out on adventures, or more ruins, with.

Finally they stepped inside an elaborate room where the fragment laid on the altar. Behind it was a Word Wall though it was no longer glowing.

"Farkas, the fragment is here. Certainly a trap, see those stones?"

"A challenge! Go ahead," They came up to the alter and he readied his blade.

Caith reacted swiping by up the fragment and placing it firmly in his bag. The stone plates burst off skidding onto the floor as half a dozen high level draugr appeared. Some were wearing helmets; Deathlords. Before he could voice a warning the ones nearest them shouted. Farkas was thrown into the wall but all he could do was focus on his own opponent.

_"ZUN HAAL VIIK!"_ His swords remained in his hands as he dashed in to strike. The leader was about to shout again this time changing tactics to push rubble at him when he lashed out trying to prevent any broken bones on his part. The resulting injury he dealt made its right arm useless, and its raised weapon tumbled out of its nerveless fingers.

He growled as the still living Deathlords advanced towards Farkas. Caith neatly arched his arm and swung his weapon into the chest of the enemy and a quick glance around told him that Farkas had slain the draugr who was after him although he walked with a limp. The odds were still one to three and Caith recognized a bad situation when he saw one. He dragged them both to higher ground and started firing arrows The Companion tried to help when they slipped into range but he did not let him unless there was a sure blow. Running low on arrows he swore and leapt back into the fray.  
Panting and exhausted thirty minutes later Caith turned to Farkas and gave the man a healing potion despite his protests of being okay then cleaned his own wounds. He was lucky it only took a few stitches, the removal of an arrow in his shoulder, and cauterizing a deeper slice. Now his only goal was to leave Dustman's as soon as he could. Backtracking through the Cairn they discovered a short path leading to the exit and emerged to see the rising sun.

"I guess we were down there a while," Farkas commented as he settled down on the grass to enjoy the view.

"Yeah," they were silent until the sun had risen and started the trip back after eating some of their rations and refilling their water skins. Their return trip was uneventful allowing Caith to heal some although Farkas was suspicious at the accelerated rate he really couldn't say anything with his 'wolf' status himself.

At the steps of the up-turned boat Vilkas was out and pacing anxiously on the stone. He froze when he saw them and embraced his brother. "Follow me around back, the others are there waiting."

Caith watched the two throw their arms around each others shoulders while they walked. He kept himself a couple steps behind to allow them their space. Vilkas turned a moment and locked his eyes on him, something shifted beneath is gaze and he gave him a small nod before returning his attention to his brother.

Farkas spoke for him at the initiation ceremony and Caith raised a hand in farewell for the group and stealthily slipped around front after finishing with their congratulations. Though not without fixing the circle with his sternest 'I know your secrets' look. Vilkas was already out front waiting to intercept him. His expression conveyed that he had hurried to the steps in hopes he would take that route.

"Gratitude for keeping my brother safe. It looks as though you got the worst of the damage. I have a spare potion if you want it, or you could see Danica at the temple," it seemed he was worried not only about his sibling on that trip.

"I'll heal in time."

"Why won't you let any of us help you?" he demanded unreasonably fustrated.

"A secret for a secret?" Vilkas narrowed his gaze before giving his silent consent. "Why were concerned about my welfare?" the knight in front of him glared and he saw his face redden in a faint blush. Changing his stance Vilkas crossed his arms defensibly and shook his head annoyed and clearly not going to answer.

"When you can answer that, I will tell," Caith told him gently before walking away to Dragonsreach. The guards opened the doors wordlessly and he gave greetings to the Jarl and Court Wizard and approached his housecarl Lydia.

"Come with me, I need your help."

No one heard the murder in his voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days, that's how long it took for him to reach High Hrothgar on the Throat of the World after climbing the Seven Thousand steps. Caith took a rest in Ivarstead with Lydia, but now, he was alone.

Honestly, Caith had given the woman a fair chance. He made sure to treat her with indifference, respect, and refrained from giving any unnecessary orders during their trip. She on the other hand got offended by even the request to do the simplest of tasks! Yes, she would do them but not without complaint and the use of that awful conceited tone to make a rude remark to him. Was it not expected that they share the watch or help equally preparing and breaking camp?

What truly crossed the limits of his patience was when they were making their way up the steps and he handed her a variety of potions to carry after he saw that she had none on her person because he was concerned that if they got into trouble she would not have anything to rely upon until he was able to get to her side. Instead of showing her thanks, denying, or even ignoring his gesture she gave him what seemed to be her favorite line 'I am sworn to carry your burdens.'

Served her right they ran into a couple of Frost Trolls not an hour later while searching for a place off the path to steps to rest for a few hours. Charging in against his shout of warning to stay back she was quickly knocked aside with a swipe of claws. Although, admittedly, that was the distraction that allowed him to shoot one of them through the skull and take his time lining up a second shot while it was contentedly mauling her corpse, tearing it apart. He later dragged the body to a cliff and pushed it over the edge along with the trolls.

Caith then walked another half hour before sleeping a little on a ledge where no other creatures would be able to reach and disturb him. After his nap he continued up to the monastery and Arngeir welcomed him with three other monks observing stoically from the shadows.

"Shout and let us see your Thu'um, dovahkiin."

"Niid. I cannot, nor can I use magic. Instead my body is enhanced and time does not affect me as it should," this confounded the old master but the question he asked next had Caith baffled.

"How old are you?"

"Not sure. I fought in the Great War so probably around Ulfric's age," They blinked and looked at him. He knew plenty well himself he looked to be in his prime between 25 and 35. The Greybeards had no idea how to solve this problem as they could not teach, nor send him to Ustengrav for the horn of Jurgen Windcaller without the aid of the Voice.

"I could always go and see if I must," he offered knowing of the sacred tradition and how it served as a final trial to test dragonborns.

"Perhaps," Wulfgar broke in to the astonishment of Borri and Einarth. The foundation rocked but Caith was unaffected, seeing this he continued. "We agree that you should climb to the top of the mountain and speak with our leader Paarthurnax to discuss a solution. If you make it past the trail to the summit that is. Fierce wind and cold adorn the path, without the proper Words you may freeze or loose your way."

"No worries I will try. Tell me, is it urgent that you recover the horn?" The grave looks trained on him was answer enough. With a grim smile he went out back and Wulfgar opened the gates for him to start up the path. His cloak seemed to block the worst effects of the wind gusts, powerful enchantments that they were and his sense of direction allowed him to stay on the path, for the most part. There were a few close calls when he stepped into nothingness of the ground beneath him gave way. Every step was a battle not to be knocked over by the gusts, to walk forward took an immense amount of concentration. The sole ice wraith he met on the path did indeed almost kill him. He was forced to take his hands out to fight and his skin was blue by the end of the hard won fight. By the time he made it to the top he nearly fell over with relief. An ancient magic was at work making the summit hospital.

Loud wingbeats made him look up to see an old dragon land on the wall. Caith jumped back into a defensive crouch warily watching him.

"Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah ... my mountain?"

"Drem Yol Lok, I am Dovahkiin. I cannot participate in proper tinvaak regretfully. It seems magic nor Thu'um have affect on me," Caith narrowly avoided drawing his blades as 'Yol Toor Shul' washed over him in a bout of flame. The old dragon nodded sagely.

"It seems you are right. This is unheard of in joor. You are an interesting jul," he pondered.

"What do you mean? Who else has this ability?" The dragon remained impassive. "The Greybeards wanted me to retrieve to Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. I believe I can, I got up here afterall. Although do you know of a solution for my Voice?"

"Nid, I do not. Ustengrav is irrelevant for the task ahead. Do you know why I was waiting here for Alduin's return? This is where he was vanquished sent into Time by a kel and a Shout made by men. Seek this Kel and return here when you have it."

"Geh, it will be done," Paarthunax rumbled a sound akin to a purr. Caith painstakingly made his way down the slope and back to the halls of High Hrothgar. Honestly, the Arngeir seemed surprised to find him alive. Einarth and Borri were indifferent, at least Wulfgar acknowledged him with a familiar and showed him to a room to stay in.

"I don't think I will be going to Ustengrav after all, sorry," he told Arngeir who he found to be wandering the halls.

"It saddens me to know that it remains elsewhere."

"Knowing where it is is something at least. Wait, you don't?"

"We have reason to believe it has been disturbed. If you happen upon a chance in your travels consider returning it," Caith shook his head and assured the monk he would make a point to investigate.

He slept fitfully that night, flashes of his past came into his mind, the Great War, blood, death. With a start he woke from the nightmare and silently crept from the monastery to start his descent to the world waiting below. In Ivarstead he headed for Riften, a plan already forming in his mind. He needed information, the Thieves Guild could help. Furthermore, they might even be willing to break into the College of Winterhold -the only place he was sure would have leads on the Kel.

It was a fairly uneventful trip by his standards, well that was until he wandered too close to Autumnwatch Tower for a closer look. Turned out a dragon thought it was a neat place too. He made it up to the word wall and groaned as he recognized it. A bronze scaled dragon rose into the sky with an arrow shaped tail, an elder dragon. Caith tensed, preparing to dodge the first Shout, when it came he rolled away from the ice and frost it spewed. He knew full well that the Voice of the Dov still affected him if it was powerful enough. Never take chances was his policy, paranoia saves lives after all. Bringing out his bow he shot off a couple of arrows aimed at its wings before sprinting for cover again. He swore when a second dragon, a dull brown color breathing fire arrived at the scene in response to its roar. In the back of his mind a small voice told him of the Nordic tomb, Arcwind Point, nearby. Firing off another volley of arrows, the Elder landed and he immediately danced around it slicing at wing joints and darting away from snapping jaws, narrowly avoiding jumping over the tail as it swung by. Caith stumbled a bit when he tripped and lost his balance, in consequence the other dragon nearly singed him.

A panicked laugh escaped him when he realized the fire-enchantments held. With the more dangerous enemy grounded he focused on the younger one. When it fell, he dispatched it quickly with various stabs and slashes around its limbs, severed the tip of its tail, and finally slit its throat. The massive skull landed hard on him as he scrambled back quickly, his ankle snapped. Caith hissed at the break and limped away towards higher ground as the eldest rushed at him, sensing the injury. In a flurry the soul filled him and the pained faded as his wounds healed, both old and new. Adrenaline coursed through him and Caith actually dove _under_ its belly and yanked his elven dagger out of its sheath, his blades dropped in the snow by his foe's bones. He hacked away at the dragon until it exhausted itself trying to get away from the small, effective weapon. He made sure to end it quickly with a well placed blow to the base of its head and neck joint. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, Caith picked up his swords, wiped down all three blades, cleaning them carefully, and recovered his arrows.

Striking up a tune, he whistled a bit before dropping into a hum, unconsciously wary of potential enemies or other threats, Dovahkiin headed on his merry way deeper into the Rift.

Upon his arrival to Riften a guard tried a 'shake-down' on him. He handed over the money asked for, clapped the man on his shoulder, and walked away with the guard's coin purse full of the day's collections, and, more importantly, three times heavier. Caith whistled as he walked down the street, sending a warning look to a man who seemed to be about to stop him -he would later learn his name was Maul and apologize- it was in the market place he found who he was looking for.

"Never done an honest day's worth of work have you lad, eh?" he raised an eyebrow at the red haired nord who made the statement. "Care to lend me a hand?"

Flashing him an unnerving grin he asked far to innocently, "What did you have in mind?" From there it went smoothly. Stealing the ring, planting it, keeping a straight face while the town guards stabbed the target for resistance, and cutting down anything with a pulse in the Rat-way. Caith walked into the Ragged Flagon just as bets were being made on whether or not he would show up. Feeling mischievous, he snuck right up behind the group of Thieves before announcing his presence, quickly jumping back before their daggers could make contact. Judging by how riled they all were, Caith decided this was going to be fun.


End file.
